


Lovefool

by amirmitchell



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M, check my tumblr for the alt ending, im a sucker for those 5+1 things are you kidding me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amirmitchell/pseuds/amirmitchell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the misadventures of lucas taking care of maya while she's drunk and the one time that the tables are turned // dedicated 2 karly so everyone knows</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovefool

**Author's Note:**

> who doesn't love those cheesy 5+1 one shots?????????????????? anyways follow me on tumblr @missy-bradford thanks and be on the lookout for more fics updating soon hopefully

**.1**

Their first alcoholic beverage as a group of high school rebels is a tequila called Pasión Azteca that Farkle steals from his father's liquor cabinet their junior year. A single bottle costs $3.5 million dollars, a price placed by the white gold bottle decorated with a total of 6,400 diamonds that Farkle promises Maya after they've emptied it, and it's such sweet music to her ears that she almost cries. It doesn't really occur to her that she won't be able to make money on it for another four years, but who cares? They're about to get fucking drunk.

It's their entire group- Lucas, Maya, Riley, Farkle, and Zay- all huddled into Lucas’s shed on a Saturday night while his parents are out of town, and it's just about the wildest thing that about half of the bunch have done in their entire high school careers. (Looking at all of them, it's easy to assume which two aren't partial to the party scene.)

“Maya gets the first one, since it's _technically_ her bottle now,” Riley squeaks, tearing open the package to the plastic shot glasses they'd snatched from the dollar store on their way over and passing it to Farkle who was pouring. “Can you believe we’re doing this, Peaches? It's your very first drink ever! It’s our very first _drinking_ party together ever!”

Zay chokes on his spit at the assumption made and the blonde’s innocent grin in response. “It's not a party until they're all poured, honey,” Maya hums absentmindedly, waiting to down her liquor until her friends are all grasping their own.

“Just be careful! I read online that it's supposed to burn really bad...” Riley frowns, her eyebrows bunched when Maya gulps hers down and pours another one without as much as a blink. “...ly?”

Crystal eyes go wide and Zay bursts into an obnoxious cackle. “ _Ow_ . Cough! Cough!” Maya pats her chest with a phony groan, trying to cover up the way she impulsively moves for another shot. “Ooh, that's a _bad_ burn,” she winces as Zay only laughs more, now tilting his own drink back before passing his empty cup to her.

“Nice one, Hart,” he snorts.

“Okay, Riley, you might want to do yours slowly,” Farkle starts, “I've been doing my research as well, and you're more prone to the side effects of drinking since you've lead such a clean life. I wouldn't want you to get sick because you move too quickl… and you're throwing up.”

She's heaving over the bucket Lucas’s mother uses for gardening with Maya’s hands holding back her hair before he even made it his second sentence.

Lucas sucks in his breath between his teeth, passing his shot over to Zay who takes it happily. “Yeah, I think I'll just observe.”

(They each take on their own trope when drunk; Riley turning violent before sobs break out, Farkle becoming cocky as hell with his liquid confidence, Zay suddenly a philosophical genius, and Maya ending up a giggling mess by her fourth helping.

Lucas likes to record them all in the prime of an alcohol-induced episode. He's the assigned responsible friend, but he's not fucking blind to ideal blackmail potential.)

 

**.2**

Lucas ends up being the designated adult during all of their little rendezvous in his shed- their new _spot,_ one might say- meaning he’s the one to clean up afterwards and make sure that everyone is tucked neatly under blankets in his shed with their car keys in his kitchen drawer before he sneaks into his room before his parents will notice he's not there.

He doesn't mind it, either. He's never really been too partial to drinking, only really indulging himself when he's at a party watching Maya sloppily dance a little too closely to Missy Bradford or after a great baseball game with a few runs under his belt, so it's not much of a deal in his eyes.

The thing about usually being sober is that he knows how Maya can get when she's drunk, even if some of their group isn't as educated, and he knows how quickly she is to impulsively give in to reckless decisions while intoxicated.

(So when Zay proudly announces, “I got the goods!” before thrusting a bag with three joints into the air in his grip a few weeks after their first meetup and Riley _eagerly_ accepts a hit, Lucas just _knows_ that this night is going to be trouble.)

“Oh, Babineaux, my hero,” Maya moans, catching the lighter her tosses her way before she steals the improperly lit joint from Riley’s fingers.

“Oh, no, no, _no,_ ” Lucas says firmly, shaking his head and taking the paraphernalia from her hands and passing it off to Farkle.

“What the fuck, Huckleberry? It's _puff, puff_ , _pass_ , not _pass and not let Maya get her puff_ ,” she pouts dramatically, already slurring a bit from the coke and rum they'd been devouring for about an hour. She tries to stand up to approach Farkle, but before she's even close to getting on her feet, Lucas has a blanket wrapped tightly around her and is lifting her from the scene. “Lucas!” she shrieks, kicking her legs.

“Nope, not mixing you with drugs right now, Shortstack. No, no, no.” he repeats, just as strict when he turns back to the group. “Zay, don't let them get too wild. I’m taking her to bed because if I leave her in here, she's gonna take it.”

“You're stealing Peaches!” Riley glares, her finger pointing at him angrily. “Farkly, you can't just let him take my Peaches!”

Farkle nods at Lucas knowingly, observing enough of Maya over the past few weeks to understand that he knows her limits better than the rest of them, and he waves him off before bringing his hand to rub Riley’s back in an attempt to calm her. “She's just going for a little nap, Riles, don't worry.”

“Yeah,” Zay assures, placing the joint Farkle was holding in between her fingers. “Let's get you mellowed out.”

 

**.3**

“All we’re saying is that you're a little _ka-tch, ka-tch_ when it comes to the Blonde Beauty up there,” Zay teases, taking another hit from the joint before Riley grasps it.

After the first night bundled as a burrito and tucked beneath Lucas’s covers, Maya had made a habit of finding herself on his mattress after a few drinks. She doesn't even really stay out until the bottles are empty anymore, getting enough to dull the thoughts in her mind to numbness and begging Lucas to bring her to his bedroom in the youngest tone she's used in years.

Hell, it's not even normal that Lucas is down in the shed with his friends while she's out cold in his home, but he wanted to make sure he had Riley’s keys before he turned in for the night.

“What does that even mean?” Lucas scoffs, tucking Riley’s lanyard into his back pocket.

“It means you're whipped,” Farkle explains. “That's the noise a whip makes.”

“You better be treating her right, Friar,” Riley growls, a cold stare thrown his way before she takes a drag. “I will flippin’ end you if you hurt her.”

“What are you guys even talking about?” Lucas questions with wide eyes, his hands thrown up in surrender. “I'm not anything for her, okay?! She says that only my bed feels comfortable when she's drunk. I can't just kick her out.”

“Yeah because you're whipped,” Zay mumbles before sipping from his cup.

“Super whipped,” Riley and Farkle nod in unison.

“I bet you wouldn't get her out of your bed right now if you were dared,” Farkle bets, a challenging smirk on his face.

“I will go get her right no-” Lucas starts in a huff, and, as if on cue, a flash of blonde tumbles to the ground outside of the open wooden door.

“Wow-ee, you guys are blurry,” Maya giggles from the dirt, Lucas flying to her side to assist her to her feet. “Are you always this blurry? Are my contacts missing?” She moves her hand to poke at one of her eyes before Lucas takes it in his own.

“Why aren't you in bed?” he asks her.

“Because you left,” she admits softly, blinking up at him with a small pout. “Why’d ya leave me, Huck’eberry?”

Lucas can't fight his tiny smile, resisting all his urges to comment on just how adorable she looks in the moonlight, staring at him with wide eyes. “I'll be right there, okay, Maya?” He ignores the smug grunts exchanged within the shed. “Why don't you just go get back in bed?”

“I can't,” Maya cries helplessly. “My legs are mad at me, Huck. I need you to carry me.” She reaches out her arms, opening and closing her hands at him.

“Yeah, tough guy, _carry_ her up to _your bed_ ,” Farkle prompts from the sidelines.

“ _Please_ , Lucas,” Maya begs, batting her eyelashes just enough for him to scoop her up bridal style.

“Alright, let's go, Sour Patch.” His heart melts a little at the soft sigh that escapes her in his arms, completely disregarding Zay, Farkle, and Riley now.

(He’s just glad that they don't hear him promise to never leave her again as long as they both shall live, and then some, when she pleads him to stay.)

 

**.4**

In her defense, Maya thinks that hiding out in Lucas’s shed is a _great_ idea after a long night at Billy’s house and a blood alcohol level far above where it should be when her mother is actually in their apartment. She just forgot the tiny detail that Lucas cleans out his shed for them to use it, and when they're not using it, it's not as vacant for her to just sprawl out on the floor in, and so when she trips over his stupid watering can and falls right into a bag of soil and flower bulbs scatter everywhere, it is most _definitely,_ in absolutely _no way_ her fault.

“I got it, Mama,” Lucas shouts, padding towards the noise with his oldest bat in hand. His breath catches in his throat when he doesn't approach to a scavenger of some sort, but his best friend in the skimpiest dress he'd never seen before and smudged eyeliner bringing out the blue in her eyes.

“Are you alright, Lukey?” his mother questions from the back door.

“Y-yeah, I am! It's just a raccoon,” he lies. “Just go back to bed, I'll shoo it out!”

“If you need help, just holler, alright?” Maya can hear faintly before the second voice completely disappears and she's left alone with the boy and his bat, an ultimate longing to cuddle against him resonating within her.

“Lukey,” she whines vulnerably, reaching for him like a child riddled with despair, “I'm stuck and you're fuzzy.” She scrunches her nose, struggling to wrestle her way upright.

His trance fades, his body acting before his mind to step forward and lift her effortlessly against him. “You never make weekends boring, do you?”

She steps up, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep her balance in addition to his hands locking to her waist. “I like you better this close,” she flirts playfully. “You're not so fuzzy up here.”

He can feel the tips of his ears burning at her gaze, blue eyes staring intently at every feature she can make out as if they're new to her. “Out late tonight, huh?”

She nods shamelessly. “You're just like my knight in shining armor, though,” Maya smiles radiantly, tightening her grasp around him. “You saved me from the evil shed swamp, and now you get a kiss as a prize!”

“A kiss?” he chuckles, knowing that she has some trick in mind by the glint in her eyes. “Aren't I lucky?”

“The luckiest hero in the kingdom, and don't ya forget it, bub!” she snorts, ducking her head and nestling it under his chin. “But not on the lips like a prince, on somewhere else like a Ranger Rick.” She presses a kiss against the skin of his neck, soft and sensual through her drunken filter.

He squeezes her hips in response, placing his own prize to the top of her head before she yawns endearingly.

“Mm, I wanna go to bed, Lucas,” she whispers out, her eyelashes fluttering on her closed lids as they stand in the dark in each other’s arms.

“Alright, Penelope,” he agrees, swiftly tucking one of his arms on the small of her back and the other behind her knees to hold her in the air. “We just have to be quiet, though. Alright? Very quiet.”

She's already softly snoring into his chest by the time he makes it anywhere close to the entry point of his house, and he wonders if he really is-well… _ka-tch, ka-tch_ for his blonde beauty, after all.

 

**.5**

Katy Hart is not oblivious.

Yes, a bit ditzy sometimes, and questionable at judging character, but she is _not_ oblivious. She knows what seventeen year olds do with their friends on Saturday nights before mysteriously coming home with the “flu” on Sunday afternoon, and so she has a system in place that no one knows about; a system so secure that the only people aware are the two involved.

She texts Lucas.

It's nothing creepy or awkward. It's not some mega cougar plot to get with the boy that her daughter has a painfully large crush on. It’s her insurance on Maya’s safety every weekend, and it has yet to fail her because Lucas is a good kid. He is an amazingly bright boy that texts her a list of all the substances her daughter consumes on her rebellious binges and assures that she is tucked in soundly before she gets too hectic.

He sends Katy updates periodically over the night through his phone, playing up to his _designated driver_ persona around all of their friends to make sure that Maya’s wellbeing is out of any risk before he even attempts to rest, and she thanks him with extra pointers that he needs in order to make it known to his crush that his entire existence at this point is a quest to win Maya’s heart because everyone seems to know at this point except the girl herself.

 _Shortstack is down and asleep. I'll try to have her home at a reasonable time tomorrow if she doesn't snore her entire day away,_ he writes.

A grin pulls at Katy’s lips. **Try making her a parfait for breakfast. She's been craving those, and I bet she'd fall in love with ya on the spot.**

No, Katy Hart is not oblivious in any way, shape, or form.

Maya, though? A completely different story.

 

**.+1**

She wonders if God is trying to make a statement to her that he truly exists when she hears in passing that Lucas is wasted and alone in a bedroom upstairs while searching high and low for him.

She has one job while attending Billy Ross’s giant end of the summer blowout, and it is to keep Lucas moderately sober and out of trouble so that he is in the best shape when he goes to lunch tomorrow with the head of admissions from an amazing school in Texas to discuss his potential baseball scholarship.

That's it. That's all. She has to keep track of Huckleberry, which seems simple enough considering he's fucking massive and looks about twenty years older than anyone else there getting drunk off their asses, and so she doesn't think twice about turning around for _one second_ to grab a quick cup for herself.

The thing is that to Maya, standing proudly at 5’3 in heels with the BMI of a twelve year old, _every single guy in her grade_ is massive and looks about twenty years older than anyone else, and so she's fucked. She's completely and utterly fucked when she loses sight of Lucas to pour her drink, and she's absolutely fucked, getting pushed around by every figure bigger than her while looking for her thick-skulled dumbass that wandered off.

She searches for _hours_ , too, if losing him wasn't enough. She spends her entire fucking night wandering aimlessly through crowds upon crowds of teens having the time of their fucking life, and she's stuck babysitting an invisible cowboy that Riley is going to kill her for misplacing- that is until Yindra walks by spilling the necessary details of his location, and Maya is sprinting back through the house to hopefully catch him before he moves.

“Maya Papaya!” he grins cheekily when she finds him inside Billy’s younger sister’s room, his attention shifting from the horses on her wallpaper to his best friend.

“Potato Johnson!” she snorts back enthusiastically, closing the door behind her with the click of the lock and a plan of isolating him until he's sober enough to sneak to his truck.

“I missed you,” Lucas swoons in her direction, snatching her by the waist as soon as she’s in arm’s reach. He pulls her tightly onto his lap, cuddling his face into her hair when she lets out a loud giggle.

“I've missed you, too, dumbass.”

“Mm, you smell good,” he moans against her skull. “Don't ever move.”

She wiggles in his lap, biting her lip at his dopey, lopsided smile he has painted on. “You're quite the joy with a little liquid confidence in ya,” she states, tapping his nose playfully as she basks in his drunken state.

“Only for you,” he slurs, leaning in close with his face scrunched in response. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“You only birthed twenty-three of your twenty-four horses back in the Lone Star State?” she quips, tacking on a southern accent.

“Well… yes,” he blinks, frowning for a fraction of a second before shaking his head. “That's not this secret, though.” His fingers curl under her chin, a gasp escaping her lungs when he pulls her just close enough to whisper against her lips, “This one is bigger than that. Do you think you can keep it?”

When their eyes meet, Maya wonders if this is what it feels like to be in love; to find your soulmate. She wonders if this is what authors write novels on, musicians compose ballads for, if staring into Lucas’s eyes is the reason the sun rises each morning, and as much as she wants it not to be, it's like something clicks in that second that she didn't believe existed. “I- uh, yeah! I mean, yeah, I can,” she stammers, her cheeks painted a light blush.

“You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen,” he smiles whimsically, his eyes three shades lighter than she's ever seen them before.

“Lucas, I-”

“But there's a term and condition!” he blurts suddenly, pressing his index finger sloppily to her face.

“What?”

“You can **_not_** tell Maya.”

 


End file.
